Uncork the Love

It's easy to love when there's no anger, no defiance, no impatience. But what happens when they start growing up?

Today was your eighth birthday. You received a card and money from Bubby and Zaidy, and promise of a gift from us. We had chocolate pudding for breakfast, your favorite spread in the lunch sandwiches, and you were able pick anything you wanted for supper. You chose pizza, and beamed with pride as you distributed it among your siblings. Then, when Daddy came home especially early, we went out together, just you and me.

First we went to buy you sandals. Although I had schlepped all four of you to a shoe store in another neighborhood just last week, when you insisted on a particular style that the store did not carry, I pressed you once, but didn't fight. So there we were, in a more expensive store, where we found the style you liked in the color I wanted in five minutes flat. I tried to ignore the price tag, and we both left happy.

We did a few small errands -- bought some whole wheat flour at the health food store, picked up stockings for the girls at a dry goods shop, and took money out of an ATM machine. When I go with you, every purchase becomes an adventure. Your perpetual curiosity will pick up on the details I would never notice -- the unusual bike helmet someone is wearing, the gallon jug of molasses at the health food store, the brick oven in the pizza parlor we pass. You have an endless thirst for experiences -- to try to work the cash register, to figure out how money emerges from a machine, to try a new health bar at the health food store. Often that thirst leaves me feeling depleted. Today, I just looked on lovingly, answered the stream of questions, and made sure nothing was harmed.

We went to the book store where you picked out a birthday present. I enjoyed watching you fondle the books, peek into so many of them, and deliberate seriously over which one to choose. I myself was doing the same with the books in the adult section, and I could fully appreciate your feelings.

Our last stop was the park. We had stopped at the bakery earlier, and you had picked out two luxuriant triple chocolate ice cream bars. Now we would enjoy them together. We selected a bench which faced away from the street and sat down close to each other. You leaned against my shoulder. We pulled off the shiny wrappers and started licking our treat.

We didn't say much, you and I, even though we are both big talkers.

We didn't say much, you and I, even though we are both big talkers. We watched the stragglers still on the swings, soaring into the darkening sky, the teens roaming the area, and the men hurrying by as they cut through the park to reach their welcoming homes after a long day. I sucked the chocolate coating until it melted, sliver by sweet sliver, sliding down my throat. You took big chunks out of you bar, the chocolate adorning your face, hands and shirt.

Earlier that day, I had turned to Daddy while he looked over my shoulder reading an article on the computer screen that I had just completed.

"It's 2:30," I said wistfully. "Eight years ago, Binyamin was just ten minutes old. Remember how we felt?"

A touch of the incandescent joy which had been ours that long-ago day infused Daddy's face as he murmured, "Yes, we were so, so happy." We sat for a moment letting that exultation, the indescribable happiness of having become parents, pass over us once more. Then Daddy gestured to the screen and said, "You left out the word ‘is' in that sentence."

Now, as the stars began to gleam on an ebony sky, and the crickets to chirp their song in the bushes around us, I searched for a way to pass onto you the feelings I had had for you at that moment.

"Daddy and I were remembering the day you were born." I told you. "We were so happy when you joined our family. We are so glad you're our boy."

You beamed at me.

I looked at you. You seemed so big -- broad shoulders, a solid build, a full head taller than every kid in your class. Your pants were spattered with dirt, and your shirt grubby from a long day of being a boy. It was so hard to juxtapose this reality with my mental snapshot of the tiny infant I had been handed eight years before. That boy had been delicate as a flower petal, fragile as a baby bird. He had smelled so sweet, and I loved nuzzling my nose into his cheek. He had been helpless, fragile and utterly dependent. And the love -- it had been so deep -- I ached from the intensity.

Why do I allow the frustrations of raising a strong-willed son obscure the tender feelings I harbor within?

Looking at you, and thinking of that baby, I felt a rush of deep sadness. The love then had been so pure, so complete. It was the same love I was feeling now, a joy and pride and tenderness all mixed together. There had been no anger, no battle of wills, no disobedience, no impatience, no defiance. What happened to us, to you and me? How have I allowed the beauty of our relationship to slip out of my consciousness so often, drowned out by your acting as little boys will? Why do I allow the frustrations and tensions of raising a strong-willed, determined and active son obscure the tender feelings I harbor within?

If only I could have bottled the feelings I had then, as the midwife handed me a tiny, perfect human being. If only I could trap the ones I have now, as you sit next to me, bristling with energy, yet sipping in the togetherness we are sharing. I would open the bottle and take a whiff each time I find myself losing sight of your preciousness.

We lick the last remnants of our treat. Slowly, we gather out bags, throw away our sticks, and walk home together.

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About the Author

Bassi Gruen is a licensed social worker, a professional writer, and the editorial director of Targum Press. She''s published hundreds of articles in numerous Jewish publications. Bassi is the author of "A Mother'',s Musings", a collection of stories about the challenges and joys, the fears and the hopes of motherhood. She lives with her husband, her children, and her dreams in Beitar Illit.

Visitor Comments: 6

My son and his lovely wife just gave birth to their first child....a boy. This article "hit home" in so many ways. Terrific! Thanks!

(5)
sjhepner,
June 5, 2006 12:00 AM

What happens to our adorable babies!!???

G-d makes our babies so sweet, helpless, adorable and milk scented..so that we should lok after them in their early fragile stages.. the love bank is where we deposit the stock love and bonds that sustain us and them through questioning childhood, difficult transitional and hormonal Adolescence, then on to Maturity and separation..what a clever businerss plan...

(4)
Gitty Landman M.S.W.,
June 5, 2006 12:00 AM

so beautiful

so beautiful, so true yet isn't the love for the newborn about our feeling of accomplishment and competency (we gave birth! or he's gaining weight on our milk! or he's so clean and looks so cute in that outfit or we made him smile and stop crying)? so when he/she challenges us we don't feel accomplished and we certainly don't feel confident.
The trick is to separate the two and see the behavior for what it is and reserve the unconditional love for another human being. Easier said then done. Thank you, I'll try to think about "taking whiffs from the bottle where we store the love and good memories" next time my child has a temper tantrum.

(3)
E,
June 5, 2006 12:00 AM

Wow. Thanks!

This is so beautiful! Thank you for sharing these beautiful feelings. They are very meaningful...

(2)
Anonymous,
June 4, 2006 12:00 AM

It's wonderful now -and will get better and better.Small children - small joys, big children bigger joys.

(1)
Barbara L. Fisher,
June 4, 2006 12:00 AM

What a touching and beautiful tribute to a special son. My youngest son is now 17 1/2. His High Schools days are almost over. HE is planning to be in Israel for what would have been his senior year. Each day I look at my own son, now a tall , handsome young man. His youth seems to have flown by so quickly. I too cherish to times we shared. Your letter was so special in that you encapsulated each moment now preserved forever. I'm sure your son will someday be overwhelmed by your love, and that will give him the confidence to be a productive and caring member of society. I wish you much nachas from all your children. Barbara Fisher

I live in rural Montana where the Cholov Yisrael milk is difficult to obtain and very expensive. So I drink regular milk. What is your view on this?

The Aish Rabbi Replies:

Jewish law requires that there be rabbinic supervision during the milking process to ensure that the milk comes from a kosher animal. In the United States, many people rely on the Department of Agriculture's regulations and controls as sufficiently stringent to fulfill the rabbinic requirement for supervision.

Most of the major Kashrut organizations in the United States rely on this as well. You will therefore find many kosher products in America certified with a 'D' next to the kosher symbol. Such products – unless otherwise specified on the label – are not Cholov Yisrael and are assumed kosher based on the DOA's guarantee.

There are many, however, do not rely on this, and will eat only dairy products that are designated as Cholov Yisrael (literally, "Jewish milk"). This is particularly true in large Jewish communities, where Cholov Yisrael is widely available.

Rabbi Moshe Feinstein wrote that under limited conditions, such as an institution which consumes a lot of milk and Cholov Yisrael is generally unavailable or especially expensive, American milk is acceptable, as the government supervision is adequate to prevent non-kosher ingredients from being added.

It should be added that the above only applies to milk itself, which is marketed as pure cow's milk. All other dairy products, such as cheeses and butter, may contain non-kosher ingredients and always require kosher certification. In addition, Rabbi Feinstein's ruling applies only in the United States, where government regulations are considered reliable. In other parts of the world, including Europe, Cholov Yisrael is a requirement.

There are additional esoteric reasons for being stringent regarding Cholov Yisrael, and because of this it is generally advisable to consume only Cholov Yisroel dairy foods.

In 1889, 800 Jews arrived in Buenos Aires, marking the birth of the modern Jewish community in Argentina. These immigrants were fleeing poverty and pogroms in Russia, and moved to Argentina because of its open door policy of immigration. By 1920, more than 150,000 Jews were living in Argentina. Juan Peron's rise to power in 1946 was an ominous sign, as he was a Nazi sympathizer with fascist leanings. Peron halted Jewish immigration to Argentina, introduced mandatory Catholic religious instruction in public schools, and allowed Argentina to become a haven for fleeing Nazis. (In 1960, Israeli agents abducted Adolf Eichmann from a Buenos Aires suburb.) Today, Argentina has the largest Jewish community in Latin America with 250,000, though terror attacks have prompted many young people to emigrate. In 1992, the Israeli Embassy in Buenos Aires was bombed, killing 32 people. In 1994, the Jewish community headquarters in Buenos Aires was bombed, killing 85 people. The perpetrators have never been apprehended.

Be aware of what situations and behaviors give you pleasure. When you feel excessively sad and cannot change your attitude, make a conscious effort to take some action that might alleviate your sadness.

If you anticipate feeling sad, prepare a list of things that might make you feel better. It could be talking to a specific enthusiastic individual, running, taking a walk in a quiet area, looking at pictures of family, listening to music, or reading inspiring words.

While our attitude is a major factor in sadness, lack of positive external situations and events play an important role in how we feel.

[If a criminal has been executed by hanging] his body may not remain suspended overnight ... because it is an insult to God (Deuteronomy 21:23).

Rashi explains that since man was created in the image of God, anything that disparages man is disparaging God as well.

Chilul Hashem, bringing disgrace to the Divine Name, is one of the greatest sins in the Torah. The opposite of chilul Hashem is kiddush Hashem, sanctifying the Divine Name. While this topic has several dimensions to it, there is a living kiddush Hashem which occurs when a Jew behaves in a manner that merits the respect and admiration of other people, who thereby respect the Torah of Israel.

What is chilul Hashem? One Talmudic author stated, "It is when I buy meat from the butcher and delay paying him" (Yoma 86a). To cause someone to say that a Torah scholar is anything less than scrupulous in meeting his obligations is to cause people to lose respect for the Torah.

Suppose someone offers us a business deal of questionable legality. Is the personal gain worth the possible dishonor that we bring not only upon ourselves, but on our nation? If our personal reputation is ours to handle in whatever way we please, shouldn't we handle the reputation of our nation and the God we represent with maximum care?

Jews have given so much, even their lives, for kiddush Hashem. Can we not forego a few dollars to avoid chilul Hashem?

Today I shall...

be scrupulous in all my transactions and relationships to avoid the possibility of bringing dishonor to my God and people.

With stories and insights,
Rabbi Twerski's new book Twerski on Machzor makes Rosh Hashanah prayers more meaningful. Click here to order...